


Smell the Flowers

by CATtheDrawer



Category: South Park
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, bunny - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-08 07:51:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14689713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CATtheDrawer/pseuds/CATtheDrawer
Summary: Butters hated how life had changed. The once closeness held by all of his “friends” dissipated into nothing more than a memory. And he was the only one that seemed to want that memory back. No one else minded the change, the revelations of personalities, the loss of certain friendships. All of it just became a part of their new life as preteens, and would soon, now, become a part of their new lives as teenagers.Pushed into a corner Butters takes drastic measures for his one moment of peace--death.However, before his plans could bare fruit, he was foiled by Mysterion, the new vigilante that had shown up a couple of months before. Yet, what started as frustration for his continued agony turned into a blooming love for Kenny McCormick, a childhood friend who'd been studying abroad for 4 years on a well-deserved scholarship. Now that he's back, Butters' miserable life is transformed into something he has hope for.A hope for Change. A hope for Love. A hope for Happiness.Unfortunately, Kenny's positive outlook on life is tainted by Butters' previous misfortunes in his life, and a happily ever after, may not exist after all.





	Smell the Flowers

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***This story will be very angsty***

****The following is a list of what will very** **likely** **be within the story, Smell the Flowers.****

*****Please be sure to read through the warnings, you have been warned in advanced*****

**WARNINGS**

  * Major Character Death(s)
  * Graphic depictions of violence
  * Mentions of suicide
  * Possible suicide(s)
  * Possible self-harm
  * Blood
  * Murder
  * Alcohol Use
  * Offensive “jokes” by Eric Cartman
  * Bunny (Butters x Kenny)
  * Fluff



******NOTE: This story is NOT meant to offend or marginalize any individual or group. This story is just meant to break your heart in about 20+ ways (oof)******

*******Please tell me what you think, and what you think could be improved, regardless of whether you liked it or not. I want to make the entire story as best as I can*******

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**You can view this story on Wattpad and Tumblr**

**[Wattpad](https://www.wattpad.com/576059480-smell-the-flowers-sp-bunny-warnings-and-social) **

**[Tumblr](https://catthedrawer.tumblr.com/post/173998083664/smell-the-flowers-aconite-116) **

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**Smell the Flowers**

**Title: Aconite**

**Words: 5455**

**~~~~~**

_August 21, 201X_

_Change is impossible. It has taken me awhile, but I’ve come to realize this truth about the world._

_People are like gardens, they have an assortment of beautiful flowers in the beginning. They’re nice, and pleasant to be around, but over time they reveal the truth beneath the illusion.  Over time, those flowers wilt, and over time, it is ugly thorns beneath the rotting petals that are the real garden they were growing._

_While this might be mistaken as the person has changed over time, it is actually that the person reveals who they were from the start. They are no longer able to hide beneath the charade of petals and pleasant fragrances or the innocence of their childhoods._

_But despite that, I used to try to see the good in others. Maybe I hoped if I did that, I could then see the good in myself, but with every shove, every punch, and every string cut loose, I realized how fragile and shallow bonds really were._

_People hurt for the sake of hurting, friends become bullies, and insecurities surface. The flowers that once bloomed with beauty wither away and die. Time rots away the illusions and reveals those carefully hidden thorns._

_Every punch is an invitation for retaliation, but hitting back means getting hit harder. The moment I swing the teachers are already on me. Reprimanding me. Punishing me. Blaming_ _me_ _._

_I'm not allowed to fight back, I can only smile and take it._

_“You're not the victim, you're the problem.”_

_“You're too sensitive.”_

_“You don't know how to take a joke.”_

“A pussy.”

Butters looked up in confusion at his only friend Eric Cartman. He was the only guy in South Park that would help him out, minus against bullies. He told Butters many times, when he asked, that if _he_ got injured then _he_ wouldn’t be able to help Butter out when he _really_ needed it. Butters used to be skeptic over the concept, but over time he thought it made sense, and he didn’t want his only friend getting hurt because of him.

“A what?” Butters responded.

Cartman dug his fingers into the bag of chips and spoke again, “You’re a pussy, that’s the problem,” he shoveled a handful of chips into his mouth and laid back against the brick wall of South Park High. The two of them were located at the back of the school, the place where drug users, smokers, goths, ditchers, and delinquents would hang out all throughout the day. Right now Eric and Butters were occupying a small portion of this “secret” area during their lunch break.

Butters was the only one standing, more like pacing in front of Eric, “I am? H-how do I fix that?” Butters stopped just a little to the right of Eric and fiddled with his fingers. Today was August 21st, 12 p.m. this was the first day of his life as a high schooler. He was a freshman, a _teenager_ , practically a man his father called him. But Butters needed to shape up instead of being pushed around so much…another thing his father told him.

“Easy,” Eric smacked his lips and licked his fingers, “if you’re pushed around because you’re a pussy with no backbone, then grow a spine. Punch a few people, stand up for yourself, join the dickheads and then they won’t ignore you, they’ll _applaud_ you, duh,” Eric rolled his eyes and crumpled up the empty bag of chips.

“Oh gee Eric,” Butters shrunk back, “If I do that, I’ll get grounded again—“

“Yeah, see, that’s what I’m talking about. That’s your vagina talking,” Eric pushed off from the wall and leaned forward, “That makes horny guys want to screw with you because you’re a tight-ass, little pussy,” Eric did a crude motion with his fingers to “demonstrate” the action he was talking about. Butters fidgeted uncomfortably.

“Be more assertive and guys are less likely to fuck with you—now, could you throw this bag away and buy me like three candy bars?”

“Oh, ok, sure thing Eric...Thanks for the advice,” Butters took Eric’s trash and left. If his problem were that simple Butters would have fixed it a long time ago. But he couldn’t just change in the ways Eric suggested, he didn’t have the guts to be that kind of person.

He wanted to be nice, he wanted to be helpful, though maybe that was the problem. Maybe people didn’t like nice guys like him or found nice guys like him weird. As everyone grew older, people appeared differently.

Take Stan Marsh, for example, Butters would count him as one of the many people he thought was a friend growing up. As a child, he was an avid advocate against his father’s drinking problem but is now currently an underage drinker that often snuck away to the back of the school for a quick cig and swig.

Butters knew what Stan was doing was wrong and tried to _tell_ Stan it was many times in the past but in response, Butters nearly had a half bottle of beer thrown at his head.

It didn’t get better from there either, all throughout middle school his reality seemed to change. The once closeness held by all of his “friends” dissipated into nothing more than a memory. And he was the only one that seemed to want that memory back. No one else minded the change, the revelations of personalities, the loss of certain friendships. All of it just became a part of their new life as preteens, and would soon, now, become a part of their new lives as teenagers.

_How that came to be never revealed itself, but I tried to change. Ever since we all hit middle school the world spun itself upside down, and I was at the very bottom of it._

_I don’t think I deserved this isolation, I don’t think I ever did anything to make people avoid me._

_Maybe I was just unlucky, the easiest punching bag, the guy nobody would care for and nobody would notice.  But even so, I don’t think I deserved the isolation and mistreatment sentenced upon me._

_Nowadays,_ _there is more power in the names you are called than the person you are and less power in forgiveness you serve than the hate you spread._

_I was told I should join the same people that ridiculed me.  Essentially become what has tormented me since middle school if I wanted to avoid those negatives for the rest of my life, but I couldn’t see when and where the problem would be solved if I did that._

_Yet, at one point, as I processed the idea, it almost seemed like the solution. If I did as Eric said, I could have more friends again, I wouldn’t be ignored, I could be happy. There was a fleeting joy in my heart, but there was also this disgusting rotting hate too. Hate at myself for considering and enjoying an idea so cruel._

_Was this the real me? Was I actually someone cruel enough to entertain such an idea of hate?_

_Was I already like them?_

On Butters way into the school, he passed by a trash can, just what he needed. Though he was surprised to see the trash can was already overflowing with trash despite it only being the first half of the first day of school The sight of all the half-eaten food with several flies buzzing around made Butters want to turn around and find a less empty trash can. Hell, the smell was more than enough to put him on the brink of tears, but Butters quickly tossed Eric’s chip bag into the pile and left rather quickly. He only looked back at the vile container to make sure his trash had successfully landed in the pile and had not fallen to the floor.

_No, I wasn’t, I would say to myself. I did what I was told._

_I’m not like them._

_I am_ _good_

Tears splattered onto the notebook paper. His pen was poised just as he crushed the period onto the paper. The black splotch larger than it should be. A built-up rage stored in one tiny, black dot.

Butters took a moment to breathe, he lifted his head and stared at the dark blue ceiling. Though it appeared black given the lights in his room were off and he only had one small light illuminating his desk.

He let out a shaky sigh and tried to calm himself, he couldn’t do this now, not yet. He had to finish writing first, and then...and _then_ could he let loose.

Butters pushed away from his bedroom desk, the headache building in his head did little to ease his grief and hate. He was supposed to be sleeping, but he had other plans for tonight.

Butters wiped the fresh tears with the sleeve of his pajamas. He glanced out his open window and shook his head, he needed to finish first. Butters’ fist tightened before he hesitantly sat back down in his chair and continued writing.

_Of course even as I write that, I know the lie I attempt to spread about myself._

_I hated the names. I hated the abuse, but more than anything, I_ _hated_ _the loneliness. To lose everyone I had ever talked with to this plague of isolation and distrust made me_ _angry_ _._

 _Why was_ _I_ _the one suffering? What had_ _I_ _done to deserve this?_

_When I am alone at home, I would often imagine terrible justice upon all those that left me. I’ve even written some of the things I hoped would happen in the many journals my therapist makes me write._

_The world is rotting, and all the people in it have rotted._

_Including myself._

Butters tore out the page of his journal and crumpled it in one hand. He gnawed on the cap of his pen to stop himself from screaming in frustration. Everything he wrote felt sour in his mouth and couldn’t convey the real anguish and feeling in his heart.

It was pissing him off.

_August 21, 201X_

_I tore out the other page, I’m not supposed to do that. I’ll tape it back in later, but let me write this first._

Butters hummed a little tune he made up in his head. He still was unsure about Eric’s advice, only frowning when he considered the possibility of it being the solution to all his problems.

When he entered the school, there was a vending machine immediately to his left, he was glad it was so close by as he wasn’t used to the school building yet. It was different than the elementary school and middle school and he’d already gotten lost during the first ten minutes of the school day.

Butters stopped humming as he dug into his pocket for some loose change and dollar bills to buy the candy bars. He knew Eric liked Hershey Bars a lot and luckily he spotted one.

“Hey, get out of the way, dick,” Butters jumped.

“Oh gee,” he turned to look behind him, it was Craig, “I-I’m sorry, I’m just looking for my quarters, I’ll be quick,” Craig wasn’t terribly mean to him, but he didn’t talk to Butters either. As far as he knew, Craig was too busy with his boyfriend Tweek.

“Just get out of the way, I’m not in a good fucking mood,” Craig growled.

“Just give me a minute,” Butters pulled out four quarters, he just needed one more for the Hershey’s bar--

Butters was slammed against the vending machine, he gasped for breath and dropped all his quarters. From the corner of his vision he saw one of them roll underneath the machine, “I said fucking move, I don’t think I should have to repeat myself to a bitch like you…”

Butters shakily nodded, he was shocked. Sure Craig was short, but he was still intimidating and angry looking, but he had never once raised a fist against anyone unless they were threatening his boyfriend.

Craig released Butters and Butters ducked away from the machine. It terrified Butters, whatever pissed him off was now being released on him, and in these situations, Butters found it easiest to duck his head and follow orders.

Craig was at the machine for quite some time as he bought more than an armful of chips and candy bars, and for some reason, Butters didn’t think he planned on sharing any.

“I...I need to buy some candy bars, I’ll be qui--”

“Shut up and stand there, or go to the other machine at the other end of the school,” Craig interrupted him. Butters couldn’t do that, he still didn’t know his way around school, and it would take too long. Lunch would be over by then.

“B--”

“Do you know why I called you a bitch?” Craig turned to Butters, Butters shut his mouth and shook his head, “It’s because you’re Eric’s little bitch. Everyone knows it, and you know what else everyone knows,” Craig hissed.

“N-no?”

“Eric is only using you, so a word of advice, quit being his bitch for god’s sake. People might actually talk to you if you weren’t such a cock sucking bitch.”

Butter’s eyes widened as Craig collected his armful of food and turned to leave.  Butters shook off the stunned expression he had as Craig continued to walk, “Y-You’re wrong! E-Eric is my friend, he...he would never use me!”

“Ha! Go suck a dick,” Craig answered.

Butters hated how life had changed. He remembered the good times he had with Craig growing up, despite his cynical and monotone behavior, he’d always been someone Butters was glad to call a friend. Underneath it all, he was a good guy, but now…

Butters sighed, Craig was wrong.

_This entry is my goodbye, but that seems sudden and unexpected._

_I’m supposed to write more about my feelings on the events that occur in a single day, but there is nothing to really elaborate on. It is simple really._

_I am angry._ _Betrayed_ _._

_Angry at myself for being so dumb and gullible, I really thought people could change. Even the worst person could grow to be better._

_Even a guy like me still had a friend to rely on._

_But even that was a lie._

“Dude, you’re a fucking dick,” Butters stopped walking. Lunch was nearly over and he was hurrying back to give Eric the candy bars he finally managed to buy. He was doing his best to put Craig’s words behind him, good friends would never doubt each other.

“No, you’re the fucking dick, don’t assume my intentions are anything but being a good friend to poor Butters.”

Butters pressed his back against the wall. He was pretty sure that was Stan talking to Eric.

“Quit the charity act you manipulative snake,” Stan scoffed.

“Hey! Butters is fine with it, he’s like my bitch dude, it’s cool. He’ll do whatever I say, no questions asked, like a dog wagging his tail for their owner, man,” Eric paused to cough, “Dude, can you..can you _not_ smoke here in my face?”

There was a pause before Stan spoke up, “First, that’s just plain fucking slavery you fatass cunt, second, this is a free country and I’ll smoke wherever I please. Besides lunch is almost over and I don’t give a fuck about 5th period so I’m going to skip and smoke instead.”

“Hmph, hypocrite, smoking is illegal _and_ you are wrong. I don’t _own_ Butters, he just willingly does what I want. He _wants_ to.” Eric commented smugly as if he caught Stan red-handed and beaten him at his own game.

Stan scoffed, “He wants to? Only because he thinks you’d do the same for him,” Stan’s words were followed by Eric coughing. Butters imagined Stan blew smoke into Eric’s face.

“Screw you man! I was here first, and I’m waiting for Butters to bring my candy bars!”

Butters stayed hidden, he couldn’t turn the corner just yet, Craig’s words made it impossible.

“I hope Butters finds out what a dick you really are, you deserve to rot alone.”

“Yeah?” Eric sneered, “And where is that loser supposed to go? If it wasn’t for me he’d probably be some depressed shit hanging from a noose in some dark alley--”

“Jesus fucking Christ! Do you even have a soul?” Butter couldn’t help but peek as Stan raised his voice. His eyes widened as he saw Stan toss his cigarette aside and grab Eric by his shirt, “Suicide is not a fucking joke, you’re stringing Butters along in a false friendship. You’re going to end up killing him you piece of shit.”

“It’s not murder if it’s suicide,” Eric calmly replied.

Stan tossed Eric to the ground and pulled out his pack of cigarettes from his pocket, “I wasted a cig because of you, so just get lost before your ugly face pisses me off more.”

“ _I’m_ still _waiting_ for _Butters_ ,” Eric enunciated and emphasized every other word in a slow drawl.

_Eric should die, he didn’t deserve all the good things that happened in his life._

_People can’t change into better people._

_People can’t change into worse people._

_You are what you are from start to finish, a predetermined destiny of good or bad, and Eric was one of the bad._

_I know that now. I hate it, but I can’t do anything about it, because it applies to me too. I am a fool for believing in Eric, but I’ve been a fool from the start and will be until the end. But more than that, I’m just as bad as Eric, and the two of us will continue to rot until we are the most despicable beings on the planet. It’s fate._

_But I can fix that._

_I can make things better, even if only for a moment._

Butters took a few steps back, the candy bars in his hands forgotten in an instant.

Had everything been a lie?

Butters head hurt, he stumbled backward and dropped the candy bars without realizing. He turned and ran away, where he was going, he didn’t know.

Everything he held onto was stripped away in an instant, his last hope, his last friend. _Gone_.

Butters was alone, truly _alone_. He had no one...or perhaps, he never had anyone to begin with.

Butters clumsily slammed into the trashcan he’d seen earlier, the tears in his eyes had made it damn near impossible for him to see. The rotting trash stained his clothes and dug its way under his nails but he pushed his way past the pungent smell and slimy banana peels.

Butters kept running. He kept pumping his legs and gasping for air.

He was falling.

A single moment seemed to last a lifetime.

The ground broke away and the world was stripped from his sense as everything faded.

He was isolated in a void of empty black.

“No,” Butters whispered. It was only because of Eric he hadn’t given up on the world. The guy who as a kid was less than kind, yet, seemed to change ever so slightly into someone Butters could call a friend. He was the only one that stuck by him. The only one that tolerated him.

It was like he was standing on a desolate field; a single withering flower was the only life that remained. And at that moment that Butters realized the emptiness of his life, the smallest breeze tore away the last few petals away.

Butters was alone, withered, and broken.

Butters cried.

_Little kids are pure and dumb. They laugh and cry and laugh and play. Their joys seemingly infinite, their problems foolishly forgotten._

_The things we do as children stay with us as memories._

_I remember being welcomed into a small group of friends when I was younger, but I also remember being later rejected by them as they looked for someone better than me. As a kid these sorts of things are supposed to be harmless, yet, it still hurt to be rejected like that._

_Maybe that was the start of all this crap._

_I was just a kid at the time, but in my frustration, I made a silly costume and donned the name of Professor Chaos. I wanted revenge on the society that had wronged me, on the friends who had left me. But I never went farther than a garden hose made to flood the world._

_However, after I started the 6th grade, I celebrated my birthday._

_No one came._

_I was angry, I know shouldn’t have gotten so worked up, there must’ve been a reason why everyone forgot. At the time I was irrational and needed an outlet, a little terrorism as Chaos._

_Harassment._

_But it didn’t stop there. More and more it seemed as though people began to avoid me._

_Friends became strangers._

_Harassment evolved into vandalism._

_Strangers became bullies._

_Vandalism escalated to thievery._

_It was_ _fun_ _and there was no one around to stop me back then._

The sound of a blaring honk woke Butters from his fear. The desolate he thought he was trapped in melted to reveal the bumper of a bright red SUV.

“Dumb kid! Get out of the road!”

Butters faltered, his voice hitched in the back of the throat. The words he tried to speak felt strangled in his mouth. Instead, his fingers gripped the street as he pushed off and ran.

He ran until his breathing labored and his footsteps began to stagger. Going home was his only option, by now the school probably called his home because he ditched, so he'd be grounded regardless.

_The extent of my bravado was theft, but now I don’t think it matters._

_I’m already rotting._

“Butters! I just got a call from your school! You ditched your class!” As soon as Butters opened the door he was met with the menacing glare of his father. His mother was in the doorway of the kitchen glancing at him with concern.

Butters ducked his head and sucked in a large breath. He was still reeling from all the running.

“It's your first day of high school! What do you have to say for yourself.”

Butters hesitated, this was always an invitation for ridicule, but his heart hurt so much he couldn't help the sudden onslaught of fresh tears.

For a moment the tension seemed to lessen and Butters looked up at his dad. His dad’s eyes softened.

“Go to your room mister, you’re grounded. Spend this time reflecting on your poor actions and write in your journal.”

“Y-yes dad,” Butters answered.

_I made a list when I was younger. A list of all the people I thought were jerks. I wanted to keep note of all the people who made me angry, even though, I could do nothing to them physically during the day my alter-ego could at night. Even if it was as small as stealing their PS controller or drawing weiners on their homes._

_I was fine with that. It helped me level with the world._

_But I’ve made a new list. A list where_ _Eric_ _Cartman_ _was the sole name on the list._

 _A “list” now of a person who I wish would disappear. A person who_ _will_ _disappear._

Butters curled up into his bed. It was still mid-afternoon so he couldn’t sleep. He just curled up and let tears slip out into a messy wet spot on his covers. He didn’t make a sound, it was almost like he had died.

He was finally alone. He had no one he could turn to now.

He had nothing left.

A guy with no future, no hope, no love.

Butters squeezed his eyes shut and hugged his knees close to his chest and choked back the noisy sobs he wanted to make. He couldn’t make a sound, this was his problem and his _alone_.

“Why…” he whimpered to no one but himself, he was, after all, _alone_.

He was back to the desolate field of empty happiness and meaningless promises. He was back to the never-ending loneliness that plagued his nightmares, his sole fear in life a reality. He felt sick to his stomach as it felt like someone had taken a stick and decided to churn and mix up his insides.

Butters stopped crying. He stopped whimpering. He opened his eyes and there was a twisted fire in them. A maddening desire lit inside his soul.

He had nothing left, he had no reason to hold back the carefully hidden cruelty behind his own fists.

Butters crawled off his bed and kneeled on the floor.

There was no longer a need to lie to himself, no longer a need to pretend he was good. He was bad. He was rotten.

Butters extended his arm underneath his bed and winced as he felt the ground until his fingertips lightly brushed a box.

He was angry. He was full of an unexplained hate.

With both arms, he reached for the box and pulled it closer. He then pried the lid off the top of the box and tossed it aside.

He was _Chaos_.

People _don’t_ change, they grow more into the roles they were meant to hold.

Just like Eric’s, his thorns were fully exposed for the world to see.

_Eric is a backstabbing, shell of a human. That will never change, but even someone like me can make the world a little brighter. All he had to do was…_

Chaos stalked the small town streets, his mind was practically empty. He was running on pure hate and an empty stomach alone. He had only one thought in his head.

_Kill Eric Cartman._

Underneath his helmet, his eyes were red from crying. His hands were numb from writing and rewriting in his journal at home. This was his final stand as Chaos, and he hoped that the world would at least bless him with this one miracle, this one chance to rid the world of two evils.

Chaos pushed open the door to the store.

“What can I do for ya!” Chaos noticed the flicker of confusion that crossed the owner’s eyes as he saw the way he was dressed, but he was quick to shrug it off. Chaos felt a sudden shiver, a sudden urge to turn around and forget he ever had the idea, but his legs continued moving forward.

“I...I need a gun,” As much as he would like to strangle Eric himself or even stab him to death, he doubted he’d get very far before Eric overpowered him. The sooner he could kill Eric, the better, no chance for error.

“Sure thing, any specifics?” The man behind the counter was called Jimbo, he was the half-uncle to Stan Marsh.

Chaos felt his heart racing, he was doing it, he _would_ do it, “A handgun?”

_Kill Eric Cartman._

He needed to keep that mantra in his head, remember why he was doing this, remember everything he’d done to him. He could do it.

Chaos watched as Jimbo picked out a gun rather quickly and brought out a small and slim gun of black color. He placed it on the counter, “How about this lovely Glock G43…” Chaos drowned out the rest of Jimbo’s description.

He picked it up without thinking, for some reason, there was no more fear or hesitation in his heart when he held the sleek frame of the gun. The object itself seemed to urge him onwards towards his goal. The smallest smile crept onto his face.

_Kill Eric Cartman._

From the corner of his eye, he saw Jimbo place several full magazines on the counter.

“This here is the ammo, the 9mm Luger designed by Georg Luger. You have a small little button on the side of your gun, the magazine release, that will allow you to reload. This weapon is an excellent choice for self-defense and easily concealed.”

Chaos reached for the magazine but a hand stopped him, “Whoa there buddy, you haven't even paid yet.”

Chaos glared at him, “I need it,” he said. He was so close. He gritted his teeth and paused, for a moment, he loosened up and was about to place the gun back on the counter. Jimbo eased up and in that second his fist flew to meet Jimbo’s chin.

Jimbo stumbled back in shock. Chaos fumbled with the magazines before grabbing a few and running.

_Kill Eric Cartman. Kill Eric Cartman._

“Hey, you costume freak, get back here you piece of shit!” Chaos ignored him and shoved the magazines into his pocket. Now he just needed to make it to Eric's house before...before he ran into him.

No doubt the moment the police report came in he would be looking for him.

_I've given up on this world and the people in it. I never really saw myself in a good light, but I always had someone that made me feel worth something…_

_Of course...all that has been stripped away. If I could take out every asshole in the world, I would. Then maybe I will have done some good for everyone here._

_But I only have one chance for one person._

_I’m sorry dad for being a terrible son._

_I’m sorry mom for being a disappointment._

_I’ve let everyone down to the point they’ve left me and instead of manning up I was a coward and did crime._

_I’ve accepted my role in this world and will live it until the last._

Chaos was shaking as he walked. He stole a gun, never before had he done something so insane, but here he was. He could hardly focus and it felt like his chest was going to burst due to how hard his heart beat inside his body.

_Kill Eric Cartman._

_Kill Eric Cartman._

_Kill--_

Chaos looked up as he stumbled through the street. The moon looked so very nice with all the stars surrounding it. He shivered at the slight breeze, he wanted to take in this sight one last time. Even though he has walked these streets so many times, it never felt this fresh and new to him before.

Chaos stiffed as he heard a gasp in front of him. His eyes widened and he looked down towards the street, a woman was standing there with her hand’s over her mouth. Her eyes were fixated on him--no, on the gun.

The woman took a few steps back, “W-wait, stop.” He took a step forward but she spun around and rain dropping her bag in the process.

“Stop!” Chaos chased after her, but his feet caught on each other and he slammed down into the ground, “No!” Chaos raised his gun; he didn’t have a choice. It was all for the greater good, there was no reason to doubt himself now.

The gun clicked and Chaos realized he never loaded it. He cursed and pushed himself up and ran after her. He could still see her, he couldn’t let her report him. He couldn’t let himself be found yet, not yet. He was so close. _So close_.

Chaos fumbled to load his gun. He dropped one magazine in the process but kept running, “Dammit!”

“Stop running!” He didn’t want this. He didn’t want _this_. He just…

Butters bit back a sob and raised his gun again. He fired.

There was a scream and Chaos stopped, he trembled and stepped back. The woman was sobbing as she limped away. Chaos turned away and ran into the nearest alley.

“No!” he screamed underneath the casted shadows in the alley.  His body slammed against the brick wall and he dropped the gun. It thudded on the ground, what had he done? He...shot... _someone_. It wasn’t even Eric! It wasn’t even himself! How could he let himself do that?

Chaos screamed, turned, and punched the brick wall he slammed into. Once. Twice. Thre--he stopped before the third time. His knuckles were scraped and bleeding, his body shook uncontrollably. Tears splattered onto his other hand and Chaos looked down. Even though only one hand was bleeding he felt as though both hands were covered in it. His knuckles were almost glowing white because of how tightly he clenched his fists.

He was bad. He was truly bad and it was unforgivable.

There was a thud and Chaos stiffened; he spun to face the sound. He took one step towards the sound and stopped.

_In a world of rot, there are no pretty flowers to smell. There is only the trash left behind._

_-Butters Stotch_

“A gun, huh? Didn’t peg you as a killer, _Chaos_.”

* * *

 

**I really hope you all enjoyed this and keep an eye out for the future updates. These chapters do take a bit of time to write (this one went through 2 drafts before being completed in 1.5 weeks or so)**


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